Chapter 31 (April Fools)

The first time Ander had held the Vial, it only pulsed gently in his hand, not showing its true nature and burning him until several minutes after he picked it up. This time, as he wrapped the fingers of his left hand around it, the Vial gave him no such second chance.
Immediately, he felt the heat that froze his hand into position—but he didn’t have time to think about that as he landed from his flying leap. His left foot came down first, slipping off the edge of a fallen shield and throwing him off balance. He fell, bringing the Vial in close to his chest to keep it from breaking when he hit the ground.
Even as he tumbled, Ander heard the flapping of putrid wings and an ear-piercing shriek. He rolled onto his back, coming face to face with the half a dozen minions that were bent on attacking him.
“Duck!” a gravely voice shouted, and Ander instinctively obeyed.
A heavy oak club flew over his head, slamming into the head of the lead minion and knocking it out of the air. The bulky form of Jagsod followed, tearing into the swarm with vicious ferocity. Ander scrambled out from underneath the melee and leaped to his feet, the Vial burning hotly in his hand as he clasped it tight. His sword was lost—he had dropped it at some point; probably when he jumped. But there was a fallen sword a few feet away, and he pounced on it hastily.
Immensely grateful that he had caught the Vial with his left hand, Ander snatched up the sword and whirled around, just in time to catch a diving minion in the side of the head. The monster screamed and retreated quickly, glaring at him and hissing.
Jagsod was being attacked by three minions at the same time, while the surrounding soldiers held off the twenty more that had launched themselves into the conflict. Ander rushed to his friend’s aid, but it was too late.
With a triumphant shriek, the largest minion bore down on the ogre, talons flashing and eyes glinting in victory. Jagsod went down in a mass of leathery wings, buried under the mob of gargoyle-like monsters.
Ander shouted wordlessly, horrified. Before he could reach his fallen friend, a flash of green caught his eye.
Celzara was mustering the last dregs of her quickly waning power, and her eyes were fixed on Ander—or rather, on the Vial held in his grasp. He ducked the ray of power, scrabbling on his knees out of her reach.
Or so he thought.
With a feeling like oily water, green light washed over Ander’s body. He gasped.
Celzara laughed—a high, ringing laugh that bordered on insanity—and began reeling him in with her vile magic. There was nothing he could do: no matter how he scrambled, no matter how hard he dug in his heels or grabbed onto a passing pillar, he was dragged inexorably backward.
“Now I have you!” the queen crowed as he reached the dais. “And your little Vial too!”
“Why do you want it?” Ander demanded, desperate to distract her. Surely his friends would stop this fiend, if only he could hold her off long enough! “You can’t hold it—you’re not the rightful ruler!”
“I don’t need to hold it!” she said with an evil grin. “I only want the power inside!” Ander watched in horror as she raised her arm—for his own hand followed, gripping the Vial tightly.
“Ah!” Celzara shouted, as she brought her hand slamming down on the stone dais. Ander’s hand echoed the movement, and the Vial crashed into the hard marble, shattering into bits!
Ander cried out in pain as several jagged shards dug into his hand; which was already blistered from the Vial’s curse. Pale, green light seeped from the pile of broken glass, drifting up through the suddenly still air of the throne room until it reached Celzara.
With a moan of satisfaction, she breathed, inhaling the Vial’s power. It took effect immediately, and Ander watched her grow stronger before his unbelieving eyes.
Whirling around to face the rest of the room, Celzara pointed her finger at Dorlan’s rebels. A green bolt of lightning exploded from her hand—stronger than anything Ander had ever seen her do before—raking across the battleground like a ray from a prism. Every rebel the beam touched screamed in pain, falling to the ground and shaking. As if that weren’t bad enough, they rose a few moments later, as minions!
“Celzara, stop!” Dorlan’s voice was desperate. She only laughed and continued striking down ever single rebel left alive. When she had finished, the entire room was filled with roaring, hissing, mewling minions—except for three figures.
Dorlan, Shyllen, and Thraluic.
“Don’t!” Ander screamed, still encased in the green bubble that held him captive. “Stop this!”
“Are you not enjoying my show?” Celzara asked in mock concern. “I’ve saved the best for last!”
Three bolts of power left her hand, striking Ander’s three friends simultaneously. Ander clawed at the inside of his trap, ripping at it with broken fingernails in an attempt to escape. But he could only watch in horror, tears streaming down his face, as all three were transformed into hideous creatures. Thraluic and Shyllen, in their draconic forms, shriveled and twisted until they were only wizened and disfigured versions of themselves; while Dorlan morphed much the same as his followers had. Hissing in rage, they advanced on the dais, but not at Celzara. No, even their minds had been destroyed, and now their anger and hatred was focused on one being:
Ander.
Collapsing to the floor inside his green cell, his hands bleeding and his heart breaking, Ander wept in anger and despair.
“It is over!” Celzara shouted to her horde. They exploded into triumphant bellows and shrieks, leaping up and over each other in their malevolent ecstasy. “We have won!”
Ander paid no attention to the feielve guards who finally came and drug him into a dungeon cell, where he was sure to spend the rest of his short life.
He paid no attention to the burns or the cuts on his hand, or the other various wounds he had suffered in the battle.
He paid no attention to the shouts and cries of the people of the Denwold, as Celzara’s troops issued from the castle to wreak their revenge. Celzara was right—it was over.
She had won.

That's not what I said. I simply said that the substitute would be bad--that could be Shyllen, Thraluic, Dorlan...obviously, old Cellie must die, but other than that there are dozens of good options. Remember that princess...?

Everyone, help me save Jagsod! Or help him get killed, it's up to you...

Um...i have no idea who that is...i only read the past two, threee chapters. I would say do what you feel will make the story perfect, and here's how i would decide:

1. Write it so he dies

2. Write it so he doesn't die

Than choose...or post both parts and have us decide because this seems kind of diffacult for me.

And one last thing....

ROBIN DIES!?!?!?!? Gasp! Thats TERRIBLE. I need to look this up and find out how it happens. Actually, at a museum one time, i saw this comic book that was apparently advertising the death of poor Robin, but no one in my family believed me so i just quit thinking about it lol...it was interesting. And this is beside the point.

LoriAnn, before I tell you my opinion, "I'm legally obliged to tell you" (movie quote, sorry) that I have a horrible time killing off ANY of my characters. Seriously, when the time comes I have a horrible time killing off the bad characters becaue I feel sorry for them--then I get mad because of all the nasty things they've done so I kill them off anyway (besides if I didn't my brother would kill ME).

All that to say (you've probably predicted my answer so far) DON'T kill Jagsod...or anybody else...but I guess if you're forcing our hand here...then IF you HAVE to kill off someone, he's probably the best character to kill because he's not as well developed as, say, Shyllen or Thraluic or (wouldn't put it past you :0) Ander.

First of all, let me state that I was getting kind of tired of waiting for a new section, so this post excites me.

Second, have you seen how many people have posted here already? Give yourself a hand for writing a story that interests so many people!

Third, which, by the way, I just figured out WHY CELZARA WANTS...isn't it great to figure out someone's motivation?

As for the fate of the charries...Well, I know you'll have a hard time whoever dies, but you probably have guessed from what you read of my NaNo that I don't have any inhibations there. So...

Jasgod is my vote. Before anyone jumps on me...I am writing a NaNoWrIMo in which ALL members of the MCs' families die. In the original draft, I only though of wordcount, but now it's really hurting me to watch them die. However, the story cannot develop as it should without their demises. I would really cry if Jasgod died, but NOTHING could be worse than BOTB SPOILER : Joraiem's death in Beyond the Summerland

I will be sorry for jagsod of course but then again You do need some thing tragic to throw with the happyness of cillies death ( smiling and hopeing that you didn't change your mind) and pluse that threat at Ander makes me mad at him so I say... Kill Him!... But make it really tragic like, Make him save Ander and make him say sorry and cillie see's that he is a great friend and is inportent to them make her last evil deed be killing jagsod...

Well its your story and I KNOW that you will make it sound good! but please! post more soon!!!!!!!

Well I sure hope not! LoriAnn, that was awful! but not very convincing. I mean i had the advantage of knowing what you were getting at but still, you killed Thraluic and Shylyn and Dorlan to quickly. Better not really happen like this, which i doubt but still...

LoriAnn!!!! I...WILL...DO...something mean and nasty. That was a HORRIBLE trick to play! I was super excited, then....deflate like a popped balloon. I knew you wouldn't end Ander like that but still! It was not nice to give my poor heart a turn like that (especially since I've been skiing today and my heart's still recovering) :0)